


Prelude to a Nightmare

by Broken_Fade



Series: Dragon Age - A Crimson Nightmare [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Fade/pseuds/Broken_Fade
Summary: Lady Rowan Hawke is a powerful Mage, she is the current Leader of The Tower of Spirit and people are after her. She has decided to join The Grey Wardens, when they accept her offer, her home is attacked by Templars, and she is rescued by The Grey Warden Alistair.





	Prelude to a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction I have decided to post, and though it is only a prelude to my series, I know it needs a lot of work, and I have changed a lot of things in order to account for my main character, please let me know what you think!

“Run! The Tower is under attack by Templars!”  
“Protect Lady Rowan! They must not get to her!”  
She heard the voice echo loud throughout the hollow corridor. It smacked her like a ton of bricks.  
An attack?  
By The Templars?  
Rowan stood in the center of her room, as the sound of shuffling feet and cries poured through the cracks of her wooden door.  
Fear built around her, like a chain of emotions binding her to this room; she couldn’t move.  
The sound of metal clashing against the staff of Mages, the sound of lungs filling with blood as the mages fell to the blade of the Templars.  
She couldn’t think beyond the fear.  
Damn it.  
“We must find her!” A voice barked a command from beyond the door, it was growing closer.  
Why were they after her?  
Then the realization dawned on her.  
Her eyes grew wider, as shadows danced around her door.  
Moments passed in complete chaos as the shadows seemed to stop moving.  
In front of her door.  
She could hear the sword being unsheathed, she could hear the heavy breathing of the Templar outside her door, could feel his eyes burning her down her door as he was preparing himself.  
Another voice passed through the door, “Watch out for her, they said she is extremely powerful; supposed to become a Grey Warden under that fucking Duncan.”  
“Not if I have anything to say about it. That bitch will be our slave for as long as I keep her alive.”  
Rowan grabbed her staff, her hands gripping tightly against the dark oak wood.  
“Go!”  
The door shattered into a million pieces; two Templars entered her room, swords drawn and ready to capture her.  
Rowan held her staff up, calling upon her magic, pulling into the deepest depths of her mind; freezing them in place.  
The first Templar that was closest to her, watched with fear as Rowan took a step closer. He watched as her movements were swift, carefully placed.  
The sound of her boots gathered in their ears, the sound of their hearts beating loud in their chest, brought the vial taste of acid burning in their throat.  
She watched them with an interest brought over from fear and determination.  
“Templars attacking The Tower of Spirit,” Rowan’s voice was cool, smooth, malice; as if she had a plan up her sleeve.  
She torn her midnight gaze from the first Templar and set it upon the second, the ultimate fear building inside him. Sweat creased his brow, suddenly his armor felt heavy, his sword felt the weight of twenty stones; his body began to feel weak. The Lyrium his commander had fed him, no longer carrying the strength it once did.  
“Why did you attack us?”  
He didn’t answer; suddenly his mouth tingled, his tongue felt swollen.  
“Answer me Templar!” Her voice cracked like lighting drawing power from the heavens.  
His eyes flinched, but he still couldn’t find the words.  
“We were sent to kill any Mage that stood in our way and refused to take The Red Lyrium, under order of an unknown General, he never showed his face, but we are under command of Lieutenant Loghain.”  
She knew that name and hissed at the thought of so many once loyal men and women taking Red Lyrium to gain power. If they took enough, they would become the monsters of nightmares.  
“Lieutenant Loghain, you say?” She turned back to the first Templar, walking over to his frozen body, a look that could shake the world spread from ear to ear, “So you are no longer the Templars of the Faithful? But the poisoned Templars of the Corrupt; obeying your Master like the bitch that you are.”  
She watched him wither under her words, could see the lost focus as a heavy gazed took over his eyes. She removed his helmet, wanting to know if the rumors were true.  
Rowan not to be taken by surprise or to lose her train of thought, took in the sight of a once beautiful man.  
The Templar had been fed more than any man should take. The Lyrium consumes Templars, giving them their abilities to fight The Darkspawn.  
Dark veins of the poison covered his face, withering under the surface. A spot on his right cheek torn open, glazed with a deep crimson as the Lyrium began to take over in violent crystals.  
“And what did Loghain say of me?”  
He did not move.  
Her patience was growing thin.  
Her hand that gripped the staff twitched, as suddenly the Templar cried in a blood curdling plead for it to stop. His body was slowly folding in half, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Bone cracked under the pressure, firs his back, then his hips.  
She needed only one Templar alive to speak.  
“Okay!”  
Her hand twitched again, as the second Templar begged for her to stop killing; but it was too late. Blood splattered her walls, as the Templar laid folded over, his broken bones cracking from the weight of his armor.  
“Then answer me Templar or you will suffer a fate much worse.”  
Trembling lips formed words, as he stared down the face of Death herself.  
“Lieutenant Loghain sent us here to take you as our prisoner. We had heard stories of your power, how you can bring back the dead and manipulate time,” talking suddenly hurt, as the acid broke the surface of his lips spilling down his chin. He needed more Lyrium or he would die a fate much worse. The withdrawal would take him.  
“Keep going,” she growled.  
This startled him, “It was Commander Hawke who gave us your location, we were to take you to Lieutenant Loghain and you were to become his sacrifice to The Arch Demon.”  
She took in his words, trying to wrap herself around the idea.  
Commander Hawke.  
So the bastard still lives.  
Lost in the darkest parts of her mind, her anger spilled over as she began to call upon the spirits that haunted her; gave her the power to kill anyone who stood in her path of vengeance.  
The Templar’s scream could be heard echoing throughout the corridors of the tower.  
The warmth of his blood, splattered against her cheek, her eyes fixated on the pile of broken bone of crunched up armor that was once a Templar.  
She collected her things, making haste to leave before more Templars came running to their aid.  
She pulled back her long charcoal hair in a high pony tail, clipping her staff to her back, and throwing her bag of herbs and medicine across her chest, she made her way through the bloody corridor.

A mass of broken bodies covered the once gray stoned floor, Mages and Templars alike had met The Maker and fell into darkness.  
“Who goes there?” A voice called out from behind Rowan as she stepped over bodies of her brethren.  
Gripping her staff, without a moment to think she took aim at the comer and froze as the sight of the armor.  
The silver glistened in the light of the burning fire, the deep shade of blue accented the armor, making the Crescent of The Gray Wardens pop from the center of his chest plate. The stranger was tall, his short blondish red hair dripped with lines of sweat as he must have fought his way through The Templars.  
“Who are you?” She took precaution and aimed her staff directly at his chest plate; no armor could stand against her.  
The stranger threw his arms up, showing he was not a threat; his sword was sheathed.  
“My name is Alistair; I am the Grey Warden who was sent here to recruit Lady Rowan Hawke; do you know if she survived this attack?”  
Rowan gave him a sideways look, and lowered her staff, “I am Rowan Hawke, Grey Warden Alistair.”  
Alistair breathed a sigh of relief as if he had found gold, “Are you injured?”  
She shook her head, “No, The Templars did not make it that far,” she smirked a wicked grin.  
Alistair approached her, still weary not to anger her; he spotted the blood that caressed her porcelain face, the blood that clung to her trembling hands. She put up a good fight.  
She took a look at her savior, as the fire brought light to his features.  
Alistair was young, he stood a great deal taller than her, with broad shoulders and a slender waist. He was built for battle; he would be a good ally in all of his.  
The fire flickered and danced inside his honey amber eyes, casting shadows of his tiredness; no doubt he was traveling hard to get here. She could see the stubble of soft amber touch his chin and cheeks.  
He was quite a beauty on the eyes.  
“What happened here?” Alistair looked out into the sea of bodies, a look of sadness casted through him.  
“The Templars are under order to bring me in,” she turned to Alistair, “I have a feeling I know who carries out these orders, but I will leave my judgement when I know more information.”  
Alistair watched his new recruit as she spoke of the madness that surged through her just hours prior.  
Rowan stood a foot or so shorter than him, her charcoal hair pulled back away from her face, glistened with soft silvers that highlighted her features just perfectly. Sapphire eyes encircled with darkness of soft shadows and running make up brought a certain beauty to her.  
He looked at her choice of armor and though he had his doubts he knew she could hold herself ready.  
The black leather trousers, gripped at her curves in just the right spots, with her knee high boots laced tightly and guarded under crimson shin plates; the black blouse hugged her tiny waist exposing a very defined bosom. She wore a knee length black duster that was accented with silver broachers that clipped around her waist.  
She was defiantly a beauty.  
Alistair pulled his eyes from her, and pulled his sword from the sheath, “We best get a move on, Ostagar is a three day journey by foot, if we are lucky The Grey Wardens will have gotten word of the attack and send aid… And horses,” he huffed, readjusting himself and started for the door.  
Rowan didn’t object, she stood by Alistair walking beside him, her staff at the ready.  
They made their way through a series of long corridors, most were covered in the bodies of Rowan’s fallen Mages.  
“Did they not send you aid? Another Grey Warden as your backup?” She stepped over the body of a Templar, Alistair offering his hand as support. She took it without question.  
Alistair shook his head, “No, Grey Warden Commander Duncan didn’t think the War had spread this far into Ferelden.”  
“What war are you talking about?” She paused, not realizing there was a war outside her home.  
Alistair felt her withdrawal and sighed, as it dawned on him that Rowan had not spent much time outside these walls. He had heard of her, heard of her power, how her family had abandoned her and how her father The Commander of The Templars had sent orders to kill her. Rowan was a powerful Mage… Probably too powerful for her own good, she had gained the rank of Leader by the time she was fifteen and had destroyed a hoard of Darkspawn that brought the Blight to The Tower of Spirits. She had shown interest in joining The Grey Wardens, wanting to control her skills, when her former Master had tried to kill her.  
“The Blight is upon us, Darkspawn are gathering in numbers, and there are not many people The Grey Wardens can trust at this point and The Templars are weak for lack of a better term. Lieutenant Loghain and whoever commands him are poisoning the minds of Templars and Mages alike. Mages have rebelled and have started to turn to Blood Magic, and I am here to gather you, in hopes your talents can help stop this.”  
She nodded, her grip tightened, “I’m with you.”  
Alistair noticed the determination building in her eyes, “Good, now let’s hope we don’t die on the way down,” he found a clearing that brought them to a series of dimly lit stairs, the fire from the torches was slowly dying away.  
“Great, so if I tumble down the stairs just know it’s because I can’t see a bloody thing,” Alistair huffed.  
Rowan waved her free hand and the fire burned bright and true.  
“Oh well now that is better.”  
Rowan watched as Alistair made his way down the stairs, his sword ready and a few smart comments spilling from his thin lips.  
Maker watch over me, she prayed.


End file.
